


Can't Fight the Moonlight

by katmarajade



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Apothecary, F/F, Sisters, Werewolf!Lavender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-12
Updated: 2014-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-15 12:03:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1304203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katmarajade/pseuds/katmarajade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daphne owns an Apothecary where Lavender buys her monthly Wolfsbane potion. When Astoria finds out her sister has a secret crush on a werewolf, it doesn’t remain a secret for long. Sisters will be sisters and everyone loves a happy ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Fight the Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://hprare-cliche.livejournal.com/profile)[**hprare_cliche**](http://hprare-cliche.livejournal.com/). Astoria wandered into this story and took over. /o\ I was helpless to stop her and I’m not even sorry. Somehow this became just as much about the Greengrass sisters as it was about the main pairing, but I sort of love them, so I hope you do too. Also, I am not an astrologer and though I tried to get those parts right, I’m only as savvy as Google. Thanks to [](http://luvscharlie.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://luvscharlie.livejournal.com/)**luvscharlie** for her beta services! All remaining errors are my own.

The moon has always been a driving force in Daphne’s life, so it’s not a terrible shock when she finds herself falling slowly for someone to whom the moon is also critically important.

As a female, particularly one who managed an O on her Astronomy NEWT, she notices how her own body’s cycles echo the moon.

As a Capricorn born on a new moon, she observes just how much her own personality is affected by the sky. Introverted and shy, Daphne is known for her cool, calm demeanour and emotional control. Quietly ambitious with a sharp, cunning head for business, she’s always preferred running things on her own and enjoys having her own Apothecary where she can manage everything herself. She’s a bit of a loner and very shy, which frustrates her at times; she blames the moon, which was shifting from Capricorn to Aquarius at the time of her birth, for that particular personality quirk.

A Potions Mistress, she recognises the power of the moon on both ingredients and the brewing process. She procures certain plants only on the new moon and purchases others exclusively from respected sources that promise clear full moon exposure at the time of harvest. In addition, she brews certain draughts and remedies at specific times during the lunar cycle, having observed the moon’s effects on people and animals alike. For example, she sells more aphrodisiac potions near the new moon and the early waxing stages, and she notes an increase in sleeping draughts and Pick-Me-Up Potion sales nearer the full moon.

And as a woman, she is in love, and the object of her affections, the one she dreams about, the person she sees only once per month, is Lavender Brown, who happens to be a werewolf.

Lavender first appeared in Daphne’s little shop just over a year ago looking for Wolfsbane. Daphne’s still not sure what specifically triggered her crush, which had over the next few months turned into something more potent, something more akin to pining. Her pathetic, secret longing grows stronger every time Lavender walks through her door.

It’s not difficult to see why she’s attracted to Lavender. After all, Lavender is beautiful, bold, and brash—all things that Daphne wishes she were herself. Daphne remembers their school days, when Lavender had been just as much a popular, pretty princess as Daphne’s much-adored younger sister Astoria. But Lavender is different now. Still gorgeous, she wears her battle scars on her face where they are visible to everyone. The jagged, puckered line runs from her forehead down over her right eye and tapers at the bottom of her cheek. Her hair, which had been a long, flowing mane of blonde waves during their years at Hogwarts, is cut short into a chic, edgy pixie cut that falls heavily over her scarred eye. Lavender is Daphne’s physical opposite in almost every way. Daphne is tall and thin with a long, oval face, unremarkable features, and straight, brown hair. Daphne watches Lavender in awe, impressed by her daring style and the fashionable Muggle clothes that drape effortlessly over the lush, dramatic curves of her petite frame; her violet eyes that make Daphne dizzy; and the tough-as-nails persona that she maintains, even though Daphne can see the loneliness carefully hidden in the set of her jaw and the curve of her rare, careful smiles.

 

Her eyes are darker now, chillier, harder; but then again, everyone’s are. Daphne tries to pretend that the lovely curves of Lavender’s full hips and ample chest don’t affect her, but she finds it difficult to speak whenever Lavender sashays in, always sneering slightly as if waiting for someone to pick a fight. Daphne aches for her, knowing that that must happen far too often.

Every month on the Friday before the full moon, Lavender stops by. At first she’d been shuttered and wary, but gradually she starts to look more controlled, as if used to her routine and comfortable in her environment. That gives Daphne a warm feeling, that her shop is a safe space for her.

Sometimes Lavender picks up something else, a vial of Pepper-Up Potion during flu season or one of the scented bath sachets that Daphne sometimes displays at the counter. Lavender seems partial to the foaming floral fragrances and Daphne makes a point thereafter to keep them stocked on the weeks Lavender is due to stop by.

Inspired, Daphne begins tinkering with the Wolfsbane formula. Sugar and other sweeteners counteract the aconite, rendering it ineffective and dangerous, but she finds some success when she adds of a few drops of pure peppermint oil in the final stage. Not only does it improve the taste, but it also helps settle the stomach, which is particularly helpful as the standard recipe often causes a bit of nausea.

Lavender comments on the improved formula, calling it the best she’s ever had. Daphne smiles for almost a week straight after that. Of course, she also turns a horrifying shade of magenta, which is a bit embarrassing. Her response explaining her peppermint idea is coherent and professional sounding though, so Daphne is still pleased.

That is the first day Lavender smiles—really smiles, that is—at her, and that is the day that Daphne realises that this is no longer just a sad little crush.

She has fallen hard and she hasn’t the slightest clue what to do about it.

Astoria drops by that evening as Daphne is closing up shop.

“You will not believe the dresses that I found for the bridesmaids! They’re this amazing blue-grey colour that matches my eyes perfectly!”

“You’re the bride—you won’t even be wearing one.”

“And a bride should look her best on her big day, don’t you think?”

Daphne nods, not wanting to dive into the madness of her sister’s wedding planning. Astoria is marrying Draco Malfoy in a few short months and wedding planning has reached the point of ridiculousness. The wedding will be a huge affair. The Malfoys are obscenely rich and the Greengrasses are influential and well-placed in society. Daphne’s parents had somehow, whether by cunning or sheer luck she still doesn’t know, come out of the war ahead. They had managed to stay off the Dark Lord’s radar and had been just helpful enough to the winning side to escape the harsh judgment and penalties that had been heaped upon the losing side.

Between the Greengrasses’ well-known and respected family name and the Malfoys’ seemingly unending pocketbook, a big, fat, Magical wedding between their beautiful, beaming, blond children was the perfect way to showcase the Malfoys’ newfound respect for all Wizards and Witches of all backgrounds. The guest list went on for miles, a veritable Who’s Who of the Wizarding World.

“Daphne!” Astoria exclaims, causing her sister to jump. “Honestly, are you even listening to me?”

“I’m sorry. I’m just distracted.”

“Obviously. What is your deal lately? You’re being even weirder than usual.”

Daphne gives her sister an exasperated look and Astoria just shrugs. “What? It’s true.”

“I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“Work stuff?” Astoria guesses. “This shop is so stuffy—it’s no wonder your client base is small. I swear you are like a ninety year old woman trapped in a twenty-six year old body. Though, really, if you don’t start moisturizing better you’re going to look like you’re middle-aged pretty soon.”

“Thanks,” Daphne says dryly, used to Astoria’s blunt, “helpful” observations. “And it’s not work and there’s nothing wrong with my shop. I’m not selling designer shoes. My customers are buying potions and herbs—they aren’t looking for anything fancy.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve finally fallen in love and are acting so strange because you’re all heartsick or something.”

Astoria’s sarcastic singsong fades as Daphne’s blush deepens.

“Good Merlin! I was only kidding. This is fantastic! Good on you, Daph! I was beginning to think you’d chosen spinsterhood. Who is it? Do I know her?”

“No one! I just … it doesn’t matter. Can we just leave it?”

Blithely ignoring Daphne’s request, Astoria pushes on. “So let me guess. Tall, gorgeous, and totally out of your league.”

Daphne flushes scarlet but says nothing.

“And I’m guessing blonde. You always had a thing for leggy blonds. Totally cliché if you ask me, but I suppose I can’t blame you. After all, I’m sure you’d be unable to resist me if I weren’t your baby sister. Not that you’d stand a chance of course, even if I was chasing for your team.”

“Shut up!” Daphne seethes, clenching her fists at her side. Astoria is the most infuriating person she’s ever known and knows exactly how to push her buttons.

“My, my. You’re awfully touchy today.”

“No. You’re just rude! Besides, she’s twice as pretty as you and rather short, if you must know!”

Astoria bursts out laughing and Daphne glares. “Oh, sis, you _do_ have it bad!”

“No, I don’t,” mutters Daphne, knowing full well how completely false that statement is.

 

Much to Daphne’s frustration, Astoria chooses Daphne’s much-awaited Lavender Day to stop by and chat again.

“Honestly, Daphne. We need to find you someone for real. Not just some pretty girl you’re mooning over. You need someone who likes the same boring stuff you do, so you two can sit around discussing gross things like eye of newt and toad kidneys instead of shagging like normal people.”

Daphne ignores her, straightening up the front counter and organising the bath sachets (purple in front) and setting out a few “sample” chocolate truffles from a little shop down the street. There is one in the lot, a white chocolate covered confection with a pink and black heart drizzled on top, that Daphne thinks looks like something Lavender would choose. Still ignoring her sister’s babbling, Daphne slaps Astoria’s hand away from her chocolate plate.

“These aren’t for you. They’re for the customers.”

“I’m a customer!” Astoria says, affronted.

“When was the last time you bought something here?”

“I bought a headache draught just last week!”

“You didn’t _buy_ it. You took it and told me you owed me and would tell your friends about the shop.”

“Yes, which is probably worth more than your ten sickle potion anyway.”

“This is not a bartering system and you can’t pay with word of mouth.”

“Well, I should be able to. I’m your sister!”

Daphne lets Astoria have the last word when the bell at the door jangles, alerting them of a new customer. Lavender steps in from the cold, shivering slightly and pushing her hair behind her left ear, leaving the heavy, uneven fringe falling artistically over her right.

Stylish as ever, she is wearing a fitted grey, woollen coat with large metal buttons that look like foreign coins. Her hands are partially cloaked in fingerless gloves and just the dainty tips of her fingers, the nails shiny with maroon varnish, are visible.

Daphne watches Lavender slip down the aisle and out of sight before tugging at her shirt, picking a piece of lint off her dark brown robes (the nice ones with satin edging), and patting her hair, hoping it retained some of the volume she’d tried to charm into it that morning.

Astoria sits in the chair behind the counter, digging through a dish of crystals, clearly bored. Why she keeps coming by when she finds the shop and her sister so dull, Daphne cannot understand.

Straightening as Lavender approaches the counter, Daphne clears her throat.

“Will this be all for you today?”

Lavender nods and Daphne offers a lopsided smile. “Would you like a chocolate? Free samples.”

Lavender appears surprised but takes a sweet. Daphne feels a wave of smug satisfaction when Lavender chooses the white chocolate one with hearts. Still smiling in what she hopes is a pleasant, not creepy way, Daphne takes Lavender’s Galleon and hands her the change.

“Hey!” Astoria interrupts. “How come _she_ gets a chocolate?”

“Because she’s an actual customer, Astoria.” Daphne bites out between gritted teeth. “I’m sorry. She’s my sister and was tragically born without tact.”

“No!” Astoria exclaims and Daphne’s stomach drops. She knows that expression. Ignoring Daphne’s insult, Astoria says in disbelief, “She’s the one? Really? All this pathetic, doe-eyed crap over her? Miss Dark Creature of the Night?”

“Astoria!” Daphne shouts, shoving her sister towards the back room, her face bright with mortification.

“It’s fine,” mutters Lavender, meeting Daphne’s gaze with a hard, callused look that makes Daphne want to cry.

“It’s _not_ fine,” Daphne shoots back, not sure whether she’s going to burst into tears or punch her sister. “She can’t come in here and say such rude things about … about my customers.”

“You’re overreacting,” Astoria says, shaking off Daphne’s grip. “You can’t just attack your innocent sister because she points out that the girl you fancy is a bloody werewolf.”

Daphne steps back, her betrayed expression painful on her own face, and with a quiet whimper she runs up the stairs, away from the shop.

 

The shop stays closed for two days. Despite knowing she was running her own business into the ground by staying up in her flat, pouting like a second year, she can’t bring herself to leave. However, when on the third day she spots customers entering from the street, she immediately throws on her robes to dash downstairs.

Astoria stands at the register, a white starched apron with a ruffled edge covering the front of her turquoise robes.

“Have a great day, Mrs Rattersby! Don’t forget to take that in the evening—it tends to cause a bit of sleepiness.”

“What are you doing here?” Daphne hisses as soon as the doorbell jingles behind Mrs Rattersby.

“Helping you, obviously. You can’t run a business by … well, not running a business.”

“You’re selling my potions? You know nothing about them.”

“Yes, you like to think that you’re the only clever one. If you recall, I did get an E on my Potions NEWT. Just because I don’t like hanging around in a dusty shop selling wart remover and tummy tamer draughts to old crones and sticky sprogs doesn’t mean I don’t understand the Potions part of it.”

“Get out. Get out of my shop. I don’t even want to see you.”

“Yes, you’re angry. And rightfully so. I was perhaps a touch rash. But I didn’t know the person you were spending all this time pining over was a werewolf! That’s awfully dangerous, Daph. Not like you at all.”

“She is a person with a treatable malady that manifests one lousy night a month.”

“She’s a werewolf. A werewolf. Don’t you remember how horrible they are?”

Daphne’s face softens slightly as she realises where all of this is coming from and she sighs.

“Greyback was a monster and you’re right to fear him. The night he came to the house to try to bring Mum and Dad to the Dark Lord’s side, well, I don’t even like to think about it. None of us will ever be able to forget that. But what you should also remember is that it was Mum—a completely human witch with no particular skill or experience in that sort of situation—who made him back down. Not with hexes or curses or any dark powers, but because she was stronger. She had a stronger will and a stronger sense of purpose.

“Greyback was a monster; he’s the one who hurt Lavender. But that doesn’t make _her_ a monster. She’s too strong for that. She’s just dealing with the lingering after effects of the war, just like the rest of us. Only hers are a little more visible. I hide in this shop and lose myself in Potions and ledgers. You spend all your time planning a big, white wedding to distract yourself. I don’t know how exactly she deals with all of this, but she’s stable and responsibly taking Wolfsbane to make sure she’s not a danger. It’s not fair to put her in the same category as a monster.”

Astoria doesn’t meet her eye and stays silent for several beats before huffing, “If you’re going to insist on working here today then you should at least have a shower and put on some fresh robes. You look awful and I think something died on those robes. Do you own anything that’s _not_ brown?”

“I like Browns,” Daphne whispers, a small smile touching her mouth.

“Yeah, I noticed,” Astoria retorts, turning away and pretending to straighten an already perfect display of Pepper-Up.

 

A week later, Daphne is just unloading a fresh batches of Blemish Blitzer and Essence of Dittany onto the shelves when the bell at the door sounds.

“Let me know if I can help you find something,” she calls, setting out the last few bottles.

“I think I found her.”

Daphne jerks at the familiar voice and drops the box she’s holding. “What are you doing here?”

“Wow, you might want to work on your customer service. What if I was here to buy a hundred galleons worth of Potions?”

“I’d say that was unwise, as most of these Potions lose their efficacy after a month or two and I can’t fathom how you could possibly need a hundred galleons’ worth of _any_ combination of Potions in that span.”

Lavender shrugs and gives Daphne a smirking smile that makes her lips purse slightly into the plumpest, most kissable mouth Daphne’s ever seen.

“I just wasn’t expecting to see you, that’s all,” Daphne manages, trying in vain not to stare at Lavender’s lips or lose herself (and every one of her mental faculties) in Lavender’s flashing violet eyes.

“Well, someone paid me a very unexpected visit yesterday,” Lavender says, watching Daphne’s puzzled face carefully. “Apparently without your knowledge.”

Daphne’s eyes narrow in confusion and Lavender continues. “Your sister, Astoria, the one with the really big mouth, showed up at my flat in Soho, which was a bit surprising considering that I live in an almost completely Muggle community.”

“Astoria went to see you?” Daphne gasps, then cocks her head as if considering something else. “Astoria knows how to find her way around Muggle London?”

“Apparently. She’s rather determined, that one.”

Daphne mutters, “She’s such a little brat. I’m so sorry!”

“She cares more about you than I think you realise.”

“What are you talking about?”

“She apologised to me, which I’m damn sure wasn’t for my sake, and she spent nearly half an hour explaining to me just how much of a catch you are, though she takes serious issue with the lack of colour in your wardrobe for some reason, and she suggests that I should really get to know you better.”

Daphne lets out a mortified sound, part laugh, part whimper.

“Listen, Daphne,” Lavender says, looking a little bit sympathetic. Daphne is torn between the euphoric rush of hearing her name in Lavender’s voice for the first time and the gasping, churning feeling of horror at the soft, pitying expression on Lavender’s face.

“I’m really sorry she made you come down here,” Daphne says, her voice so low it’s nearly a whisper.

Lavender’s breathy laugh almost breaks her, but then Lavender speaks again. “No one makes me do anything I don’t want to do. I’m here for you, not your sister. But I think, in her own strange and insulting way, she was just trying to make you happy. And I can respect that.”

“That’s nice of you to say, but it’s not necessary. Why don’t I just make us both a nice cup of tea and we’ll forget this whole mess?”

“And if I don’t want to forget it?”

Daphne freezes, unable to breathe, waiting for Lavender to finish. She knows that this is the moment where either her long-held dream will come true or she will be crushed completely.

“It’s not exactly easy to meet people when you’re in my position. I could never handle the secrecy necessary to have any sort of relationship with a Muggle. If you don’t know, I’m not exactly the subtle sort. And as for witches or wizards, well, you know what they say about me. And they’re not wrong; I am dangerous. I know that and it’s why I stay away. I live in constant fear that I’ll forget, just for a moment, and someone will get hurt.”

“I can’t believe you’d hurt anyone,” Daphne says, reaching out to grab Lavender’s hand, a gesture of solidarity and comfort that shifts profoundly when Lavender gently twists her hand and weaves her own small, charcoal-varnished fingers through Daphne’s long, unadorned, callused ones.

“I wouldn’t, not on purpose,” Lavender says. “I take the Wolfsbane and I have all sorts of alarms set to remind me to take my Potions and to lock my doors. My friends come over on full moon nights to keep an eye on me, because even with the Potion I’m scared. Dean brings a Muggle tranquilizer gun, just in case, because werewolves are resistant to most of the standard spell arsenal. Anyway, the point is no matter how careful I am, I’m not always safe to be around.”

“I don’t care about safe,” Daphne says, aware that it’s the first time in her carefully planned, cautious life she’s ever said something like that.

“I do,” Lavender says quietly, but Daphne looks into soul-spinning violet eyes and knows, somewhere deep inside, that Lavender is begging her to argue, to tell her she’s wrong, and that’s exactly what Daphne does.

Daphne’s free hand comes up to cup Lavender’s cheek and her thumb traces over the smooth curve of Lavender’s jaw before brushing softly over full lips and wine-coloured lipstick. For once she doesn’t overthink, doesn’t pause to weigh the pros and cons, doesn’t talk herself out of it. She leans in and kisses Lavender, who lets out the sexiest little moan that Daphne has ever heard. Lavender’s hand frees itself from its grip on Daphne’s own fingers just long enough to find Daphne’s waist and Daphne brings her other hand up, lacing it up through the blonde fringe, letting her thumbs tease Lavender’s earlobe, never breaking the kiss.

Lavender’s tongue is playing at the corners of her mouth and Daphne meets it with her own, pulling her even closer, and inviting her inside. Hot breath and wet lips are their only communication.

With surprising strength, Lavender’s small hands pull Daphne’s long, lean frame even closer, and Daphne is dizzy as she feels the warmth of Lavender’s full breasts pushing against her. Without any conscious thought, Daphne finds herself slouching slightly, leaning against the back wall, pulling Lavender with her, and one of her long legs sliding between Lavender’s warm thighs, which clench around her. Lavender shifts, pressing herself into Daphne’s leg and causing fiery bursts to shoot through every one of Daphne’s nerve endings.

Their frantic snogging is interrupted by the jangling bell at the door. Daphne lets out a low, desperate, keening sound as Lavender pulls back, stepping away and leaving Daphne feeling cold.

Daphne’s eyes fall shut as Astoria calls her name. “Here,” she says quietly, still not meeting Lavender’s eyes, not sure she’s ready to face the pity or rejection that she knows often follow first kisses, only kisses.

“What on earth are you doing back … _oh!_ ” Astoria’s stunned reaction is met by silence.

“So …” Astoria ventures, eyes darting back and forth between the two flushed women in front of her. “Either you’ve finally decided to start wearing lip colour like I’ve been begging you, or someone’s been snogging!”

Finally finding the courage to glance up at Lavender, Daphne sees a neutral, curious expression that answers none of her myriad questions about what in Merlin’s name just happened, what it means, and whether Daphne is ever going to be kissed like that again.

“We, erm, we just …” Daphne flounders for a moment before she feels Lavender’s hand slip into hers and the thrill of hope that floods through her renders her speechless.

“We’re going upstairs for a while,” Lavender finishes, jerking her chin up slightly and giving Astoria a tough, challenging stare, as if waiting for her to argue. When Astoria says nothing, just gives a crinkled-nosed laugh, Lavender continues. “Either watch the shop for us or lock the door behind you. If we’re all really lucky, maybe I’ll convince your sister to shed those robes you hate.”

Astoria’s shocked and scandalised laugh follows them as Lavender pulls an astonished Daphne towards the back room. Their eyes meet and Daphne feels as if her entire out-of-focus world comes into perfect clarity in that moment.

“Have fun—and no biting!” calls Astoria, still laughing, her voice fading as they ascend the dimly lit stairs towards something Daphne has never before let herself believe she might find.  


**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Can't Fight the Moonlight (Midnight Visitor Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1579682) by [MiraMira](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiraMira/pseuds/MiraMira)




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